


Your Intentions

by scarletbegonias37



Category: Love Simon (2018), Love Simon - Fandom, Simon vs the Homosapiens Agenda - Fandom, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Bram POV, Emails, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbegonias37/pseuds/scarletbegonias37
Summary: pining!Bram is pining again.Bram and Simon suffer when they can’t see each other, and they form a plan.





	Your Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> A mix of movie and book continuity. For the purposes of this story, Bram & Simon are in the summer before their senior year.

It was strange to be pining over someone who was already your boyfriend, but nonetheless pining Bram was.

It’s not like he was unfamiliar with the feeling; Bram had pined for Simon for more than the first half of high school. He’d never forget the way his stomach had sunk when Simon gave him a smile and a friendly wave (why did he always have to be so nice, on top of being so cute?) on the last day of sophomore year, and said “well, see ya around, Greenfeld”.

That was polite code for _see ya in 3 months when school starts up again, since you’re a weirdo who never talks to me even though I’m sweet & kind & outgoing and everyone likes me_.

Bram could have literally kicked himself. _Two years, you fool. You’ve had two years to open your mouth and ask the guy who you think is the Cutest Thing Ever if maybe he wants to hang out sometime, or, I don’t know, have a meaningful one-on-one conversation with him and still all you can choke out in his presence is ‘see ya later’._

The only thing he’d had going for him then is that Simon did ping his gaydar — not that Bram’s gaydar was terribly refined, but an older female cousin had once informed him that gaydar wasn’t about what people did, it was about what they didn’t do, and thinking about it, Bram found it was true for himself, and maybe it was true for Simon too. Bram didn’t make lewd comments about girls like other guys in school did — neither did Simon. His head didn’t snap to attention when a particularly voluptuous classmate walked in the room — neither did Simon’s. And Simon was friends with some of the prettiest girls in school and seemed to have no sexual tension or chemistry with any of them. So, Bram had simply clung to the idea that there might be a chance.

At least that suffering was behind him now, but now Bram was pining for a different reason, and it was worse, so much worse to pine for someone knowing that they were longing for you too. Knowing that they wanted you to kiss and touch them and just be with them, but you couldn’t.

Simon was super, super grounded. It would have been tolerable if they could have seen each other at school, but it was late June now, so Bram hadn’t been able to see or talk to him in almost three days, and he felt like he was going to die.

Mrs. Spier had caught them in Simon’s bedroom with the door locked. They hadn’t even been doing anything...much. They still weren’t having sex yet; they’d decided to wait. They were just getting more...practiced at the things they were doing. So, okay, they had intended to do some things that afternoon, or Simon wouldn’t have locked the door just in case Nora came back from band practice early. Simon’s parents were supposed to be gone to Simon’s dad’s company picnic all afternoon. Operative words being “supposed to”.

Simon’s dad must have just parked on the street for convenience, because they didn’t even hear the car pull up, which was their usual warning. Just the sudden sound of Mrs. Spier in the hallway, calling down to her husband, “well, how was I supposed to know he borrowed my car charger — Simon?” and then a knock on the door. “Where are you?”, followed by the dreaded rattle of the locked doorknob.

There was a long deadly pause while Simon and Bram froze and stared at each other in horror. Bram briefly considered climbing out of the window, but the next sound they heard made that a moot point.

“Simon,” Mrs. Spier said calmly and deliberately, “I can obviously see Bram’s car in the driveway, so if you’re both in there maybe you’d better pull yourselves together and come downstairs so we can have a talk.”

It didn’t help their case any that it had taken them several full minutes to button all buttons, zip all zippers, and emerge from the bedroom with blushing faces. At least Bram could be grateful for the fact that being interrupted by someone’s mother was a total and immediate boner-killer.

Still, for a minute there Bram had thought that Simon might get away with a slap on the wrist. They sat on the couch as far as possible from each other while Mrs. Spier gave them an excruciating sex talk (all parents must be reading from the same Every Time Including Oral manual, Bram thought), but she said she wouldn’t tell Bram’s mother, which was an enormous break — Bram’s mom was way stricter than the Spiers, and he’d probably have been grounded for the rest of the summer. And she was really only concerned about them being safe and respectful. But unfortunately, for better and for worse, if there was anything Simon was not good at, it was keeping his mouth shut and his feelings to himself.

“It’s not that you are - physically experimenting that bothers me,” Mrs. Spier said gently. “It’s that you made a promise about keeping the door open and you know the process around here. If you don’t feel that a rule is fair, you’re supposed to appeal and negotiate it.” She was kind of a touchy-feely hippie mom about this kind of thing, but honestly, it sounded pretty reasonable to Bram. His mother did NOT negotiate her house rules.

Simon, however, was red with embarrassment by this point and apparently did not find it reasonable at all. “If it doesn’t matter what we’re doing then why does it matter if the fucking door is locked?!?” he snapped in frustration. Bram cringed; this was not going to be good. There were only two things that would really make Mrs. Spier bring the hammer down, dishonesty and disrespect, and now Simon had done them both.

“Simon!” she exclaimed, and her eyes narrowed. “Bram,” she said primly, “I think you should go home now, so Simon and I can finish the rest of this discussion by ourselves.”

Bram hadn’t wanted to leave Simon there, twitching with anger, but he was pretty sure his presence wasn’t helping things any, so he gave Simon an apologetic look and did what he was told. He could still hear Simon yelling something along the lines of “HOW COULD YOU HUMILIATE ME IN FRONT OF HIM LIKE THAT, I’M NOT A CHILD” as he was shutting the front door behind him, so he figured he was right to leave.

Two hours later he got a text from Nora. _Hey B. Si asked me to send you this. He’s grounded for 5 days. They took his car keys and phone too. I don’t know what he said to Mom but she is PISSED_.

Then a second message a few seconds later: _Really sorry for u guys. He’s so bummed. I’ll keep you posted._

And, bless her kind heart, Nora had updated him with a few more texts since then, but there wasn't much news to convey. Simon was still super bummed out. He was still back-talking his parents, so his sentence hadn't been shortened. He missed Bram. That was all there was to tell.

The first day after Simon was grounded, Bram had gotten his packet of information from the guidance counselor’s office about colleges; the school had a goal of 100% college acceptance for its students this year, so they were encouraging people to apply for early admissions. That kept Bram occupied for the day and evening, looking over the materials, and his mom didn’t question why he wasn’t dashing out the door to see Simon. She always approved of him being responsible and proactive about that kind of thing.

  
The second day, Bram claimed to be feeling under the weather, and went to his room early, where he could sulk in bed and scroll through all his old text messages and emails from Simon, and all their selfies together, sighing.

The third day, Bram knew he’d better get out of the house or his mom would surely ask if he and Simon had had a fight, and he wasn’t going to be able to lie to her about what had happened. He spent most of the afternoon shooting hoops with Garrett, and managed to get his bestie to stick around for a long time at the diner afterwards, but eventually Garrett was worn out and with apologies, made his excuses to go home.

Bram just drove around for a while afterwards, killing a little more time.

He was not going to drive past Simon’s house. That would just be torture.

Of course, right after telling himself that, he drove directly to Simon’s house, and parked halfway down the block. He knew Simon didn’t have his phone, but surely, they couldn’t have taken his laptop as well, could they? Especially when Simon might have gotten his college info packet too, and needed to look things up.

And, it occurred to him, they still didn’t know about his or Simon’s secret gmail addresses. He pulled up the gmail app on his phone.

_To: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com_

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_

_Please tell me you’re awake. I miss you. This is hell._

_Love, Blue_

Thankfully, Bram didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes for a response.

_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_

_From: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com_

  
_OMG!!! I am SO GLAD you thought to email me. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first. I’ve just been so upset. I miss you like crazy. And I am SO BORED!!!_

_Love, Jacques the Prisoner_

***  
_To: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com_

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_

  
_I know this is going to sound totally psycho and stalker-y, but I’m outside your house. Halfway down the block on the right. I really don’t want to get you in any more trouble but is there any chance you could sneak out here for a couple of minutes? Or, just come to the window and wave. I am literally dying to see your face._

***

_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_

_From: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com_

_Don’t move. The wardens split a full bottle of red wine tonight. Mom is out like a light. I’ll be there in under 5 minutes. You’re a genius for doing this, by the way._

Sure enough, not long after, Bram saw the shadowy form of Simon in his rearview mirror, sneaking out of the side door to the house and closing the door ever so delicately behind him, then running across the lawn in his bare feet. In another few seconds he had slid into the passenger seat next to Bram.

“Oh my god, I have missed you SO BAD –“ Simon exclaimed, and then grabbed Bram and smothered him with kisses. They made out frantically for about five minutes, pausing only to murmur incoherent terms of endearment. Finally, they both drew back for a much-needed breather, panting.

“I’m so sorry, Simon. This isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be grounded when I’m not,” Bram said with a grimace.

“Well for god’s sake, don’t join me. You know your mom would have grounded you until Christmas,” Simon made a face, and Bram nodded in unhappy agreement.

“I just miss you so much. I felt like I was going crazy the past couple of days. That isn’t right, is it?” Bram asked.

“I don’t know if it’s right or not, but I feel the same way”, Simon assured him.

  
“Has it really been awful? What have you been doing?”

“Oh, you’re gonna LOVE this,” Simon laughed. “She’s been making me volunteer for her friend at Planned Parenthood.”

Bram did chuckle at that. Mrs. Spier was kind of funny, even when she was being very serious. “At least she knows how to make the punishment fit the crime...well, kind of. What did you have to do?”

Simon shrugged. “If there’s protestors we walk people from the parking lot into the building. Obviously, I look super-intimidating to right wing rednecks, right?” He flexed an arm jokingly. “That part’s pretty cool, actually. The rest of the time I just sat at the front desk filing paperwork. Oh, but get this. She also signed me up to see their counselor who specializes in gay male sexual health,” Simon blushed lightly, shooting Bram a wry smile.

Bram was still cringing a little at the unfairness of it all, but he couldn’t help but smile back at him. Simon found the humor in everything. “Yikes. How did that go?”

“Well, I’ve got about 1000 brochures on PrEP now if you want to read up on it, and more information about the STD rate in Atlanta than you’d ever want to know. I tried to tell him that we’re total virgins except for Sometimes Oral But Only With Each Other, but he just said I should read up on it anyway.”

Bram laughed. “My mom keeps bringing me that stuff home too. I guess it’s good to be informed, but. Why does everyone think we’re banging constantly but also cheating on each other? Like, when would we find the time?”

Simon rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Don’t ask me! Anyway, I got basically a grocery bag of free condoms out of the deal, so those’ll come in handy sometime.”

“Sometime,” Bram echoed agreeably, and leaned over to kiss Simon a few more times, just soft, gentle pecks. He took Simon’s hand in his and looked down at it. “Simon, I..,” he began shyly. This could go really well or REALLY badly. “I’m not sure if I should bring this up, but I wanted to talk to you about something.” He bit his lip.

“What is it?” Simon asked, concerned. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just, I...” Bram gave himself a little internal pep talk. Come on, man. Have some courage. What he had to say came out in a rush. “I got my college info packet and I was looking through it — obviously I had a lot of time to think about it — and I was thinking,” he took a deep breath, “we should apply to the same colleges. I know everyone’s going to tell you not to even think about that and that everybody just breaks up when they go to college but I honestly don’t think we’re going to. Do you?” It was the boldest thing Bram had ever said in his life, and his stomach was doing cartwheels.

“Absolutely not,” Simon said immediately, then added more tentatively, readjusting their hands so their fingers were twined together, “well, not if you don’t want to anyway.”

“I absolutely don’t,” Bram replied, squeezing his hand tighter. "And if I'm going this crazy after three days apart from you, I honestly don't think I can live through three months or more. I want to be with you."

“I totally agree. But...” This time it was Simon’s turn to look down shyly. The word and the pause would have made Bram want to throw up if Simon wasn’t rubbing his thumb along the back of Bram’s hand reassuringly. “I love that you’re thinking about this,” Simon said finally, “But I think it’s a little more realistic if I apply to colleges in the same town as the ones you’re applying to. Your grades are so much better than mine, Bram. I don’t want you to hold yourself back from going to one of your dream schools just because I didn’t get in. You’re the smartest person I know. You deserve all the best things.”

Bram thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “You are the best thing,” he blurted out. “I love you so, so much, Simon.” They kissed again, long and lingering.

“So yeah. I had this whole game plan,” Simon admitted. “I can definitely apply to some of the same schools you do, especially if I get all A’s first semester, which is my total goal. I even talked to my mom about getting a tutor — that earned me some points. But I thought it would be good to have backups. Like, I know you were thinking about Cornell. I was thinking I’d apply to Ithaca College. They have one of the best drama departments and their music and film schools and creative writing program are all awesome. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“It would, it would totally be cool,” Bram grinned from ear to ear.

“I was going to talk to you about it before we filed applications, but I was worried maybe you’d say —“ Simon hesitated again.

“That everyone’s going to tell us we’re too young to make a long-term commitment and that we’re totally nuts to even think of trying to plan this?” Bram supplied helpfully and knowingly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Simon sighed. “But if we just HAPPEN to coordinate where we’re applying and therefore just HAPPEN to get into the perfect schools for us both respectively that just HAPPEN to be in the same place, they’ll have to just be happy for us, right?”

Bram squeezed his hand again. “I hope so,” he said, and they just sat there blissfully looking in each other’s eyes for a long minute. He knew now why they call it ‘falling in love’ because it never stopped. Just when you thought your feelings went as deep as they could possibly go, you found a new level and just kept falling, falling, fall—

A sharp tap on Simon’s window made Bram nearly jump out of his skin, though he managed not to scream. Simon let out a strangled “AUGH!” and let go of his hand.

Simon’s father’s face loomed in the window, making a shushing gesture with one hand and a ‘keep it down’ motion with the other. “It’s just me, Simon. Roll the window down.” After Simon did as he was told, his dad leaned in casually. "Hey, Bram, how's it going?

“Please, PLEASE don’t tell Mom about this,” Simon begged. “We weren’t doing anything. Bram just came over to say hi. We’re suffering under your cruel regime!” Bram suppressed a giggle. He found Simon's dramatic ways amusing, but this was not great timing for it.

“I can see that,” Mr. Spier said. “Relax. You could have just invited him over, you know. You’re not forbidden to see him. You’re just grounded.”

“And what, sit on opposite sides of the couch watching Nickelodeon reruns?” Simon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be sarcastic, Simon. You know I’m on your side. I talked to your mom about it earlier. She knows she overreacted about the locked door thing, too. You guys are both 18. When we were your age if we’d been left in the house alone for an hour—“

“Dad! I don’t want to hear about that,” Simon groaned.

“Well, I’m just sayin’, if one of our parents found us in a car at midnight we’d have been doing a lot more than holding hands and staring at each other,” Mr. Spier winked. “Anyway, I already got you your phone back,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out Simon’s iPhone and tossing it into his lap. Simon grabbed and kissed it with glee. Mr. Spier added, “And if you can manage not to sulk and text Bram all through breakfast, I think I can get you paroled altogether. Just, work with me, Simon, you know how she feels about temper tantrums and cursing. She thinks it means you’re immature. That’s why you really got in trouble.”

“I know, I know,” Simon grimaced. “I just lost it. She embarrassed me so bad!”

“I hope you know that I, as the cool parent, would never do that,” Mr. Spier said piously. “But –“ his face hardened alarmingly. Bram had never seen Mr. Spier look anything but jovial or even goofy. He was suddenly reminded that Mr. Spier was the most fit 45-year-old he’d ever seen, that he probably still worked out four times a week in his home gym, his biceps were like rocks and he could probably beat up any guy in town. “Bram, I do have to ask you a serious question. What are your intentions with my son?”

“Dad!” Simon exclaimed, aghast, his face turning bright red. Bram’s mouth just dropped open in shock.

“I mean, are we talking rings here or what, because I’m not ready to be a grandfather or anything yet, but I would like to know that you’d make an honest man out of him someday,” Mr. Spier continued, his face still deadly serious.

“DAD!” Simon whisper-shouted in horror.

“I love him, sir!” Bram squeaked out suddenly, at the same time. He hadn’t even thought about it before the words fell out of his mouth. Mr. Spier had never intimidated him like this before.

“Oh god, Bram,” Simon muttered, putting his face in his hands. “He’s just joking.” Indeed, Simon’s dad’s face had returned to its usual goofy grin and he was chuckling now, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“That was so good,” Mr. Spier congratulated himself. “You didn’t think he got his sense of humor from his mother, did you?” he asked Bram, pointing his thumb at Simon, who was still covering his mouth and sliding down in his seat. Bram just shook his head and faked a small laugh, still nervous. “That’s really sweet to hear, though, Bram. You’re a good guy. And did you hear that, Simon? ‘Sir.’ You could learn something from him. If we got a few more ‘sirs’ and ‘ma’ams’ out of you around here, you wouldn’t have to sneak out.”

Simon gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “Yes, sir”, he said pointedly. Simon’s dad smiled.

“Well, anyway, I’m going to let you boys say good night. I’m going to go back inside and very slowly make a very large sandwich, and then I’m going to watch some of the game highlights in the den, so if you’re back inside in less than, say –“ Mr. Spier checked his watch, “20 minutes, nobody will notice a couple of extra doors opening and closing. Just letting you know.”

“Thanks, Dad”, Simon said with real appreciation, then blushed again when his dad reached into the car, grabbed his face and kissed his cheek.

“See ya, Bram”, Mr. Spier gave him a friendly wave, and jogged back towards the house.

“Oh my god, he is the worst,” Simon groaned once he was out of earshot.

Bram smiled at him. “I was actually thinking I hope you’re exactly like him when you’re his age.”

“Gross!” Simon made a face, but then smiled back at Bram.

“I can’t help it! I have a type. Cute and nice and goofy as hell,” Bram laughed.

“Shut up and kiss me again while we still have 18 minutes left,” Simon said, and Bram was happy to oblige.

Simon was back in his bed before midnight, and Bram only missed his own curfew by 15 minutes, so both of their mothers kindly pretended not to hear them creeping down their respective hallways and tapping away at their phones all night. They were in love, after all, and everyone could see it.

 

 


End file.
